Citadel

Even at a young age, I sensed something.
I remember when it came to me
after my mother had tucked me in.

How deliciously safe it felt until the
evening when I knew it would soon end.

That I could no longer take for granted
something so loving as being tucked into bed

and sleeping so soundly, I couldn't imagine
those who didn't have food and a roof.

The realization startled me into silence, my
very dreams into silence, my innocence lost,

before the huntsman found the last wolf,
before the fall of the citadel.

Now every cloud of pollen exploded with moths,

my life a trembling bead, a raindrop sliding
down the spittle of a spider's web.

Life would never go back, always running as if
stung by bees protecting the hive.

The sun with its relentlessly blinding white
shift overwhelming the lost siege of twilight.

A brightly striped lizard scrambling for
shelter after having had its tail pulled off.

How many tails had I grown in my reincarnations?

But all I wish is for a moment of true stillness
before the huntsman finds the last wolf,
before the fall of the citadel.